


Unsolicited Divine Intervention

by starrynoctsky (lightinthehall)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Sex, Human!Umbra, Jealousy, M/M, Marking, Possessive Behavior, post-brotherhood era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-26 15:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21830734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/starrynoctsky
Summary: It’s not uncommon to find the telltale figure of a certain black-haired prince looking over Insomnia in the late evening, but in the mornings, it’s near impossible.At first, Ignis thinks the impossible has occurred.Noct?Except the silver-haired man standing on Noctis’ balcony is decidedlynotthe prince.(written for Round 3 of the ignoct spice-a-thon)
Relationships: Noctis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 14
Kudos: 130
Collections: The Ignoct Spice-a-thon





	Unsolicited Divine Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> _written for Round 3 of the ignoct spice-a-thon_

Mornings are Ignis’ favourite part of the day. He enjoys the gentle greeting of the dawn through his bedroom window, the fresh, cool morning air on the way to his car, and the familiar, peaceful quiet of Noctis’ apartment.

The city is just waking up as Ignis turns down Noctis’ street, the tall, sleek apartment building coming clear into view. His gaze is naturally drawn to the fifteenth floor, the balcony on the right end. For security reasons, it isn’t distinguishable from the other suites, but it’s a view Ignis is well acquainted with. It’s not uncommon to find the telltale figure of a certain black-haired prince looking over Insomnia in the late evening, but in the mornings, it’s near impossible.

At first, Ignis thinks the impossible has occurred.

_Noct?_

Except the silver-haired man standing on Noctis’ balcony is decidedly _not_ the prince. The car engine growls as Ignis floors the accelerator, mind racing. He quickly recounts the floors, rechecks the window, and it’s most certainly Noctis’ room. The stranger suddenly looks back towards the suite, pausing for a moment before disappearing through the balcony doors.

Ignis’ car is barely in park when he rips the key from the ignition, running through the parking garage towards the building’s entrance. He rushes past the doorman with nothing more than a nod before entering the elevator and scanning his card key.

Heart pounding loudly in his ears, Ignis pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to reach the calm he’s practiced so well. Even from a distance, the man had looked naggingly familiar. Someone from the Citadel perhaps? A glaive?

There aren’t many people fortunate enough to be included within Noctis’ inner-circle. And Ignis knows every single one of them. The list of people allowed in Noctis’ room at the crack of dawn is smaller still. Ignis’ hands are buzzing, halfway to summoning his daggers, mind refusing to process the man’s state of shirtless-ness.

The possibility of Noctis… no. But then, a possible intruder? Ignis’ stomach rolls unpleasantly, he isn’t sure which option is more distressing. Readying a message to Cor, Ignis is out of the elevator as soon as the fifteenth-floor lights up on the display.

He scans his card quickly, and swings the front door open, eyes immediately going to the open balcony door, wind gently billowing through the curtains.

Empty.

There’re no signs of a struggle or forced entry. Ignis does a check of the living room, kitchen, bathroom, and guest room. No sign of anyone. Which leaves him standing in front of Noctis’ closed bedroom door.

On a normal day, he’d be letting the prince sleep in at least another hour while he would make breakfast for the two of them. On a normal day, he’d be preparing the lessons and reports they’d have to cover together. On a normal day, he’d be sneaking under the covers to kiss Noctis awake, revelling in the prince’s most unguarded moments, still blinking sleep out of deep blue eyes.

Ignis’ hand tightens on the doorknob at the thought of another person witnessing _his_ moment. It has only been mere weeks since they started this new… aspect of their relationship, but in the hopeful depths of his heart, Ignis had been coming to think of it as his. To think of the prince, of Noctis, as his.

Of course, those thoughts could never see the light of day. Noctis had not explicitly declared their exclusivity, but Ignis, perhaps naively, thought it’d been a given understanding between the two of them. Growing up, Noctis had barely expressed his interest in making friends, much less anything more. Meanwhile, Ignis had lost the hope of entertaining the thought of another; how could he when he had everything he wanted right in front of him?

Perhaps Noct had just been a late bloomer, and Ignis had simply been someone Noctis felt safe enough to explore his sexuality with. An experiment that wasn’t meant to last.

He’s Noctis’ childhood friend, familiar and available. And still, only an advisor in the end. He knew he’d have to give Noctis up for someone more deserving one day, someone of more noble standing. But this soon? This way? The Astrals are so cruel to have given Ignis everything only to rip it away from him.

A muffled whimper on the other side of the door overrides Ignis’ thoughts and he wrenches the door open. “Noct?”

Noctis is in bed, covers and blankets kicked down to his feet, morning light streams through the windows revealing the sprawl of his bare legs. The prince’s eyes are shut, lips twisted in a grimace. He’s still asleep.

And completely unaware of the man at his bedside.

“Unhand him.” The hand stroking Noctis’ furrowed brow pauses. Ignis cares little if Noctis had invited this man into his bed or not. He hadn’t been prepared for the hot, overflowing anger at seeing Noctis touched by another. Ignis is squaring his shoulders, ready to remove the man himself if need be.

The stranger looks up at him where he’s leaning casually against the headrest next to Noctis’ sleeping form. Those calm, golden amber eyes regard Ignis with an almost passive curiosity, but Ignis refuses to fold under the scrutiny. In the midst of the adrenaline rush he still remembers his training: assess your foe, find their weakness.

A single scar runs across the man’s nose and cheek, a mark of battle not uncommon amongst the glaive or the crownsguard. However, there’s an air of grace around him that reminds him of nobility; his posture speaks of high standing. Perhaps he’s a lord’s son who has somehow secured Noctis’ affection under Ignis’ nose. The very thought makes his gut twist.

“The King of Light requires comfort,” the man says, bending forward to nuzzle his nose along the delicate edge of Noctis’ jaw. Noctis’ rapid breaths slow, head tilting unconsciously towards the warmth of the other man. The act is much too familiar, and the sight of Noctis seeking comfort from another is nearly unbearable.

Ignis grits his teeth. His fury is an inferno in his veins, and it spreads and spreads and spreads. Noctis had described the art of elemancy and fire much like this. “Final warning.”

Perhaps finally sensing Ignis’ hostility, the man rises from the bed, uncaring of his lack of clothing. Ignis notes that the man stands slightly shorter than he, with dishevelled shoulder-length silver hair, wearing black, loose cargo-style pants cuffed at the knees. The little attire the man is wearing is unmarked, no sign of the royal skulls, or the insignia of the glaives.

The man is still staring down at Noctis with his sharp, strikingly familiar eyes when he speaks.

“Even in the darkness, he calls for you. Night seeking flame.”

Still trapped in his nightmare, Noctis’ body twists onto his back, fingers twitching, arm out and straining, as if reaching for something. Someone.

Ignis is at his side immediately, placing his hand lightly upon Noct’s, unsurprised at the sudden strength of the grip around his fingers. His heart shatters and reforms in his chest, the passion of his anger tamed, but burning just as brightly. There aren’t any vows in all of Eos that could bind Ignis to his prince closer than the way his heart clings to Noctis.

“Noctis. _Noct_. Wake up.”

“…Ignis?” Noctis opens his eyes, a dark, midnight blue still haunted by night terrors.

“I’m here,” Ignis whispers, thumb caressing clammy, pale skin. He spares a cold, furious look towards the stranger. “I won’t ask you again. Leave.”

“What… who? Wait -” Noctis sits up at the ice in Ignis’ voice, and catches sight of his half-naked guest. The prince’s eyes widen in confusion, scrambling away to cover himself with the sheets, eyes darting from Ignis, to the man, and then around the room before landing on his nightstand.

“…Umbra?”

Ignis looks sharply at the worn red leather-bound book on the bedside table, a golden sylleblossom pattern adorning the cover, and understanding floods him at once. Lady Lunafreya’s notebook. A memory of a silver-furred dog with intelligent eyes and a bag slung across its back.

_The Oracle’s messenger._

The man flashes a decidedly mischievous smile revealing sharp incisors, eyes glowing brightly before bowing his head. An impossible breeze picks up within the room, chilling Ignis through his clothes. The air smells distinctly of ozone. “Until next time, Your Highness.”

The messenger finally straightens, taking a step back as he dissipates into light and dust.

“Wow. Uh… that was different.” Ignis stares at the spot where Umbra vanished. “He’s never showed up as a. Not-dog before.”

It strikes Ignis all at once, his incredible foolishness. He had been _jealous_. Of a messenger of the Gods.

He almost threatened him with his _daggers_.

“Ignis?”

Ignis musters his best neutral expression, the one he saves for council meetings and official appearances. “Pardon me, Highness. I apologize for the intrusion, I should… leave you to get dressed, and I’ll start on breakfast. You enjoyed the barramundi from the café the other day, so I’ll-”

Ignis attempts to escape, but Noctis’ hand holds fast around his wrist.

Blue eyes meet his. The two of them may often wear their respective masks of teenage apathy and inscrutable royal advisor, but just as he’s seeing through Noctis’ act more and more, Noctis is learning to read past his. It’s terrifying.

Ignis can tell Noctis is choosing his words carefully, pausing and speaking slowly. “You know I wouldn’t… right? I mean, it was just Umbra, but you’ve gotta know. You and me - I _wouldn’t_.”

“What we are. I wouldn’t dare presume –“ Ignis starts before being dragged bodily down onto the bed between Noctis’ thighs. Insomnia is undergoing an unusual heat wave this month, and Noctis has forgone his sleep pants and is clad only in his black boxers and thin grey t-shirt, proving to be a thoroughly distracting vision now that Ignis doesn’t have to share the view with another. Ignis blinks as the world goes ever so slightly out of focus, watching as Noctis twists away to place Ignis’ glasses atop the oracle’s notebook.

Warm hands frame his face, pulling Ignis forward so he’s hovering over Noctis on his hands and knees. The prince’s dark hair is messy from a restless sleep, and creases of his pillow adorn his cheek, but he’s still the loveliest thing Ignis has ever seen. Ignis turns slightly to brush his lips over Noctis’ wrist, confessing, “I have no claim on you.”

Noctis sighs, drawing Ignis in by his neck, hooking a leg behind Ignis’ thigh. Their mouths meet, sweet and gentle as Ignis always is with his prince. Ignis takes his time, sweeping his tongue across Noct’s plush lower lip, before delving further into Noctis’ mouth. Passion vibrates within his core, but he holds back, not wanting to scare Noctis away.

“Ignis,” Noctis whispers as he rocks his hips against Ignis’ with his typical impatience. Noctis repeats the motion, the delicious friction shorting the impulses in Ignis’ mind. He exhales shakily against Noct’s mouth, already hard and aching for everything Noctis is offering.

“Still want me?” Noctis lifts his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. His fingers travel down his bare chest to play and pluck at the waistband of his underwear, pulling it down to expose sharp hipbones, the leaking tip of his cock.

Mouth open and wanting, Ignis watches helplessly. _Gods_ , how can Noctis even ask that? When Ignis burns for him, at his side, every day. “Always.”

“Then take me.” The underwear is flung across the room, and Noctis spreads himself underneath him, legs wide and his cock curved upwards towards his stomach. A small tube appears in his raised hand in a flash of blue sparks. Ignis flushes in mortification and arousal as he takes the bottle. Such an incredibly inappropriate use for his newly instated armiger.

He sets the bottle down and shifts back to remove his own clothes, enjoying the way Noctis watches _him_ and every strip of newly revealed skin.

Ignis should have known there’d be more trouble brewing underneath that hooded gaze.

“Did he touch me?” The question is voiced so innocently, hitting Ignis square in the chest. Noctis stretches his arms up above his head, blue eyes glowing with barely concealed anticipation.

“Pardon?” _Brat_. A snarl stops in his throat, eyes narrowed. The remainder of his clothes are tossed aside with less than his usual care.

“Just asking, Specs.” Complete, _utter_ brat. Merely moments ago, he’d had to endure the thought of Noctis with another… and despite his reassurances Ignis is not in the mood to be teased about such a thing.

His hair falls into his eyes as he uses his weight to pin Noct’s arms to the bed, squeezing his wrists in warning. _Don’t move_.

Noctis lays still, understanding the implicit command, looking up at Ignis with a trust so absolute it soothes the edges of Ignis’ hurt. He tilts his forehead to tap the tense clutch of Ignis’ hands. Soothing, grounding him.

“No one is allowed to touch you,” Ignis hisses. He feels like he’s floating, separate from the anger. This is the part of him he hadn’t wanted Noctis to witness, but he’s been given leave to express it; it’s safe here. He’s safe. “Only me.”

Noctis hums, lashes fluttering as he angles his hips up for attention, dragging them languidly against Ignis’ thighs. Tempting him. “Touch me then.”

Ignis pushes them down firmly, ignoring Noctis’ disappointed whine. He’ll grant attention as he sees fit.

“Perhaps I won’t,” Ignis says, taking his own cock into his hand instead, drawing out his groan as he thrusts into his fist. Noctis’ mouth twists into a pout, but he’s avidly watching every movement of Ignis’ hand. After a few passes of his fist, several drops of pre-come escape, landing onto the flat of Noctis’ stomach, joining the mess from his own neglected, leaking cock. Ignis is struck with the mad urge to blend their essences together and spread it across his skin. Instead, he continues to play into Noctis’ game with his next words. “Why should I indulge a prince who so readily invites others into his bed?”

It's gratifying to see Noctis squirm beneath him, keeping his arms in place like he’d been told, even without Ignis’ hands to keep him there. His accusation had flared indignant shame across the boy’s cheeks but Noctis’ eyes remain dark with arousal, the steel-blue nearly taken over by black. Raising a brow, Ignis takes mental note, filing it away for the future.

“Then maybe you should make me yours,” Noctis says, exposing the perfect, pale stretch of his throat to Ignis’ hungry gaze. The prince looks absolutely wanton, laid out like the most tempting dish; the baser part of Ignis longs to answer the call, to mark, to claim.

He retrieves the bottle, and flips the cap, coating his fingers generously in lubricant and he brings them between Noctis’ legs. His finger traces and pushes lightly onto the twitching rim, loving how Noctis chases even the slightest hint of pressure with his hips.

“ _Ignis_ ,” Noctis moans when Ignis suddenly slips two slick fingers past the tight rim, slowly sinking into him as Noctis’ body clenches against the intrusion.

“Hush now,” Ignis says, yet summoning more of the prince’s whimpers as he twists and scissors him until he’s loose, open. Noctis jolts and moans, pitch climbing higher as his desperation grows, legs wrapping round Ignis’ waist to trap him close. Their cocks grind into each other at a less than ideal angle, but even then Ignis finds himself losing control.

“Do you want to come?” He curls his finger inside Noctis, just so.

“Yes!” Noctis’ back arches.

“Tell me who you belong to.”

Noctis’ body stills, his mouth open and panting but it’s Ignis who feels breathless when Noctis levels a _look_ at him. “ _Make me_.”

It’s the stone that shatters Ignis’ control, like an inferno unleashed in his veins, he feels wild with it. His consciousness finally catching up to his desperate movements when he has Noctis’ leg slung over his elbow, the other on his shoulder, and Ignis’ cock is beginning that exquisite push into Noctis’ tight heat.

He ruts in, inch by inch, claiming the space for his own. Noctis’ eyes are dazed, unfocused, those long lashes fluttering to his cheeks, brow furrowed as he’s stretched wider on Ignis’ cock. When Ignis sinks in, to the hilt, Noctis gasping breaths are short and uneven, as if there’s no room for air when he’s already so full of Ignis.

“Don’t hold back,” Noctis says. Ignis’ breath hitches when Noctis’ hips shoves back into him, clenching around his cock tightly.

Ignis withdraws slowly, just to feel Noctis’ full body tremble, just so Noctis can really feel how empty he is without Ignis inside him. Noctis mutters unintelligibly and his groans shift into a yell when Ignis thrusts back inside, pushing in deep, then deeper wanting to take up every last space inside him.

Their previous encounters had been intense, full of careful exploration and devoted touches. He hadn’t known that Noctis could be so noisy, and Ignis drowns in the symphony of ‘ _ah harder, harder’_ and ‘ _please Ig -oh’_ that he draws out. Eager for more leverage, Ignis pushes up onto his knees and uses the angle and his weight to thrust harder and deeper. Noctis’ cries grow in volume, mindless writhing, lost in sensation, his hands are clawing at the sheets for purchase.

“Could come like this,” Noctis pants, meeting him with every thrust and groaning each time Ignis hits him just right. “You feel so good. _Ignis_.”

Ignis drives in that much harder, and he’s gifted with a stunning view of Noctis’ bliss as he loses himself, lashes wet with unshed tears, his mouth twisted in a pleasured cry as his cock twitches its release onto his abdomen. He’s tight, hotter inside than Ifrit’s hellfire, and Ignis doesn’t stop moving his hips, fucking Noctis through his orgasm.

“Keep going,” Noctis urges, sighing in contentment, his legs weakly sliding down until they hook around Ignis’ slim waist.

As Ignis’ own pleasure builds, the stray vision of the astral messenger’s hand caressing Noctis feeds into his fire, and he leans down to kiss away every trace of their touch. It makes him furious, the thought of another’s presence lingering upon Noct’s skin, he bites down on the bared curve of his neck. Worrying his teeth and lips into the previously unmarred skin, until the imprint of his mouth lingers, purple and slick with saliva when he withdraws.

 _Mine_.

“Yours,” Noctis breathes out in agreement. It’s this final admission and the sight of his love-mark so lewdly splayed upon Noctis’ neck that drives Ignis over the edge. He buries his face in the juncture of Noctis’ neck, mouthing at the newly created bruise as his thrusts turn into inelegant rutting. He needs to be deep, craves it, needs to spill inside of Noctis where no one else can ever reach. His orgasm bursts across his vision like stars, and he keeps his hips pressed tight against Noctis’ ass as he twitches and sobs his release.

His mind is lost in the white haze, but he’s distinctly aware of Noctis holding him through it, gentle caresses through his hair, and over his back. That feeling of safety, of love, envelopes him once more.

The bliss settles into a pleasant hum and Ignis is abruptly returned to his senses, appalled at the position he’s forced Noctis into. He quickly retreats, easing off, and out of him, guiltily avoiding the prince’s steady gaze. “Highness, Noct – my apologies –” He’s taken liberties, forced his claim, he’s _marked the prince_ for Astrals’ sake -

“Only you.” Noctis winces as he sits up, sending Ignis’ horror into overdrive, but he stills when the prince cups his jaw.

The love-mark is an angry purple-red, stark against his pale skin; Ignis still feels an illicit thrill shudder through him as he traces it. Guiltily, he turns his face to kiss the flat of Noctis’ palm, reverently soft and apologetic. Noctis shakes his head and gently reels him in to bring their lips together instead. Arms wrap around his neck and pull him forward until they’re laid out onto the sheets again, feverishly exchanging heat between their mouths.

“Only you,” Noctis vows against his lips. His dark hair is mussed, clinging to the sweat upon his brow and cheeks, his mist-blue eyes shining with an emotion they’ve yet to confess.

But this is enough of a promise for Ignis, his own heart echoing the sentiment.

“Guess you’re going to have to sleep over from now on. Protect my virtue from any wayward astral messengers,” Noctis says teasingly as he snuggles into Ignis, already sounding close to sleep.

He’s about to argue for propriety, but he remembers the state Noctis had been in this morning, lost in the thrall of a nightmare. If it’s comfort that Noctis requires, then Ignis will provide it, and perhaps his presence will deter any further… unsolicited divine interventions.

“…I’ll make the necessary arrangements,” he concedes after a pause, huffing indignantly when Noctis laughs, sweet and content at his side.

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Thank you for reading <3  
>   
> Umbra's human form is based on the concept art: https://imgur.com/a/luKJW  
>   
>  **Twitter:** [@starrynoctsky](https://twitter.com/starrynoctsky)


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